


It Don't Break Even

by Indigo2831



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 9-1-1 3.04 Triggers, Buck and Eddie's Co-Dependent Bromance, Buck's In The Hospital Again, Canon Divergent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, slightly AU, tsunami aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 15:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo2831/pseuds/Indigo2831
Summary: Buck falls...and then falls apart.  Tag to 3.04 "Triggers" and a fix-it fic, featuring my new favorite muse.  Canon divergent.





	It Don't Break Even

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! Thanks again for all of the kudos on my first story! I was hoping to get this posted before 3.05 'Rage' was posted, but I had to perfect the ending. So this story is now slightly AU or canon divergent. I'm fallen so hard for 911, so the plot bunnies are everywhere. Feel free to follow me on Tumblr: Indigo2831, and send short prompts if you wish. I'm writing again, and it's amazing.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Buck wondered if he had been a slave owner or some serial killer in a past life, forced to reap the results of his karma in this one. It was the only explanation for his current string of devastatingly terrible luck. At least if that were true, it would make it a little easier to accept.

He hissed as he eased the ice pack off his swollen hip, and eased down the waistline of his basketball shorts to inspect the marker line he’d drawn around an innocent bruise just 10 minutes prior. A crystalline blue leached over the shaky swipe of Sharpie, proceeded by tendrils of pinkish-red. He swore and flung the icepack across the room. And eased himself off of the couch with a grunt, ignoring the fact that he was lightheaded enough to sway a little when he stood. He snagged his keys and wallet and limped down to this car. 

Blood thinners were the root of all evil. Beyond nuisance bleeding and ruining diet and his career, they managed to turn a simple thing like tripping on a morning hike into a potentially life-threatening event. 

“You’re okay, Buck. You’re fine,” Buck promised. To himself. Because of the lawsuit, he hadn’t had contact with anyone from the 118 in weeks.

Compartmentalization was a part of being a firefighter, and he relied on that to keep his mind clear as he drove. This wasn’t a blood clot in his lungs or rod and screws in his leg. This wasn’t a setback that would make his improbable return to the LAFD even more precarious. It was just precautionary. He parked and shuffled into the emergency room, attempting to disguise his limp as a casual, cocksure strut. But nothing couldn’t disguise the rapid beat of his heart and the expanding tightness in his chest. Nor did it stop the tremble in his voice when he addressed the nurse behind the counter in the ER. “Hi, I’m Evan B-Buckley. I fell earlier this morning and I’m on blood thinners…and the bruising’s getting pretty bad.”

*911*

Athena spent her morning cursing whoever decided to invent polyester. She also tossed a few special obscenities for the creator of the box uniform pants. The heat made people squirrely, and Athena miserable. She drove her patrol car, AC on high, praying any potential collars were at least two stupid to make her chase them today. 

Her cell phone rang and she dug it out, pulling over on a side street with a clear view of the intersection ahead. “Grant?” 

“Hey, Athena, it’s Bug.” 

“Hey, girl,” Athena smiled as she scanned the street. “Are you finally calling to return my blue stilettos?” 

Bernadette “Bug” Thomas was a nurse who’d worked ER intake at Cedar Sinai. After years of escorting perps for medical attention, visiting injured cops and more, Bug and Athena had formed a fun, loose friendship that consisted of margaritas once a month, play dates with May and her son, Anthony, and the occasional shopping trip. She had a kind heart and a big mouth, and Athena loved her for both. 

“You know that cute white boy you and Bobby unofficially adopted? The one with the birthmark?” Bug asked in a conspiratorial whisper. 

“Pretty sure he disowned us, Bug...and I…” 

“I am working today.” Bug interjected with more emphasis. 

There were strict rules against disclosing medical information, and with a million-dollar lawsuit involved, she certainly didn’t want to kick that hornets’ nest. “Bug, with everything that’s going down, this is a more than a mess....wait--” she gasped, connecting the two disparate statements. 

Athena snapped her teeth together. Love was greater than grievances, no matter how petty. She was more than fond of Buck and prayed for him almost as much as she did her own children. The thought of him being in the hospital AGAIN made her more than a little sick. “Is he okay?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. See ya soon, Athena.” 

“Maybe. Bye, Bug.” She waited a full minute before radioing in her early lunch and heading to the Cedars. 

It was situations like this where her ill-fitting, non-breathable uniform was more than useful. A flash of her badge and her withering glare at a doctor with an attitude, and she was walking through the doors of Buck’s treatment room. 

The first thing that anyone noticed about Evan Buckley was that his spirit diffused through the room like light through a crystal, magnifying whatever colors he flashed that day. But his treatment area was gray and quiet and cold. There was a figure curled in the bed in an economy of space, all shrunken spirit and rumpled sheets. “Buck? Evan?” 

She heard harsh, spongy breathing, and something maternal and fierce roared within her. She crossed the room and rounded his bed, stomach dropping at what she saw. She’d seen Buck experience it all, love, heartache, rage, pain, grief, and it was always with the dynamic spark of life. The person in the bed was curled and utterly dim, he was covered in tears and staring at the dusty castors of the IV stand, breaths hinging on hyperventilation, and rocking _ like a victim _ . There was a brokenness there that she’d never seen before, not when he’d been pinned by a firetruck or in the months after. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

Evan’s bloodshot eyes closed, and he shook his head.

“Aww, Buck. Come here,” Athena leaned down and embraced him. 

His form of lean muscle trembled against him but he was otherwise limp and that just made Athena hold him tighter.

Slowly an arm snaked around her waist, and then forehead pressed itself against her collarbone, and wetness dribbled into her awful uniform. “ _ Evan _ , baby, talk to me. What happened?” 

Buck half-sobbed into her shoulder, but Athena could only make out a few foreboding words, like “all gone” and “over.” When Buck’s breaths been punching in and out of him with the calamity of uncontrolled anxiety, Athena’s fear doubled.

“You’re scaring me, Buck. Breathe slowly for me, baby, all right?” Athena pulled back. “First things first: Are you okay?” She eyed the bruises on his arm and elbow peeking through his hospital gown, and the odd circles surrounding them. 

Buck’s eyes buzzed back and forth and he flopped back down, huffing out a few breaths that sounded grating and painful. He merely shook his head with heartbreaking certainty. 

As a cop, it was her duty to serve and protect, and at that moment, there was only one citizen in her charge. Athena charged out of the treatment room, and to the nurse’s station where Bug resided. She theatrically looked back at her computer and began typing loudly. Athena exhaled pure rage to calm herself. “Bernadette, get me his doctor. Now.” 

Bug arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Already paged.” 

Within a matter of moments, Athena had answers. Buck came in under his own power, at the advice of his primary care physician so they could monitor and treat any internal bleeding from a nasty fall he’d taken while hiking, thanks to those damned blood thinners. It was then that he admitted that his chest hurt and he was having difficulty breathing. “We’ve tested him, thoroughly. We haven’t found any more clots, and I’m consulting with another attending about the dosages of his blood thinner. I’m also worried about his mental state. When we mentioned the possibility of more clots, he...well, you’ve seen him. Has he been under a lot of stress lately?” The doctor asked.

Athena burst into laughter. Could you even call what he’d been through stress? 

_ Crushed by a firetruck. _

_ Abandoned by his girlfriend.  _

_ Caught in a tsunami. _

_ Thinking he killed his best friend’s child. _

Any one of those things should have broken him. And maybe the combined weight of all of them finally had. 

The doctor ordered a psych consult and light sedation, and when she was finally reunited with Buck, he no longer teetered on the edge of hyperventilation. The earlier desolation had been subdued, though it still lingered in the dullness of his eyes, and the silver that rimmed them. “Chest feel better?”

Buck’s stubbled jaw scraped against the pillow as he gave the barest of nods.

“You want to talk to me now?” 

“You shouldn’t have come.” Buck’s voice idled at husky, and it gnarled rasp now.

It had been three weeks since Buck had filed the lawsuit, and dropped out of their lives. Three weeks of Bobby ranting about stubborn bad boys who didn’t value their own lives, and making excuses to check in on Eddie and Christopher, who missed his favorite person in the world.

“Probably shouldn’t say this when I’m in the uniform, but I don’t give a damn about a lawsuit,” Athena swore. “I know you’re terrified right now, but you did the right thing coming in. I spoke to the doctors. There are no new clots. You’re just a little banged up from the fall. So it’s going to be okay.” 

For the first time since Athena had arrived, Buck’s bruised eyes shifted to meet hers. “No, it won’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t...just fall, Athena. I was running in the canyon. The...gravel under my feet...it sounded like water...like a wave. And I...lost myself. I didn’t know where I was or when I was,” Buck confessed. “I’m not...not okay, Athena...not at all. I can’t fight anymore. I can’t handle anymore.” 

Athena took a moment and absorbed his confession and the bleakness dripping from it. She rubbed Buck’s upper arm before the hand moved to his cheek, thumb swiping away the tears there. “Evan Buckley, I am so damned proud of you.” Buck regarded her as if she’d grown a second head, and the expression was a shade of the man she knew. The man she desperately missed. “It’s not fair, all the shit you’ve been through, but this is good. It’s good to realize that, and you don’t have to do this by yourself. We got you, Buck. We always have.” 

“I’m so tired,” Buck whispered. 

“And you have every right to be. What can I do, Buck? What do you need right now?” 

Buck bit his lip and wiped his running nose with the gaping collar of his hospital gown. “Get me out of here, Athena. Please.” 

Athena smiled and fought the urge to kiss his forehead like she would her own son. “Copy that.” 

*911* 

Buck was sure mothers had secret powers or they were tapped into some kind of psychic frequency that men and dads just couldn’t access. Instead of driving him home, Athena took him to her house and installed him on the couch with a blanket and a firm directive: “Sleep, and then we’ll make a plan.” 

“What about Bobby?” 

“Bobby will be handled.” 

Then she began puttering in the kitchen. Buck knew he was in the midst of a nervous breakdown or some kind of episode he’d only seen in soap operas, but he was soothed by the sounds of home and the grace of an amazing woman, and for the first time since he started hearing phantom waves and having nightmares, he’d slept. 

Buck woke to Bobby’s voice and the smell of melted butter. The tension crackled through him like lightning. But Athena smiled in reassurance as she moved from the kitchen to the entryway, gliding in what Buck secretly called a sergeant strut. Buck couldn’t hear what was said, but recognized Athena’s no-nonsense mom voice, which was a touch scarier than her cop. After a quit exchange, Bobby descended into the living room, his face suspiciously blank even at the sight of a 6’2” former firefighter cocooned in blankets on his couch. Buck gingerly forced himself into a seated position, making room for Bobby. 

After a beat of silence, Bobby gestured at the TV. “What are you watching?”

Buck exhaled with shaky relief. “ _ Real Housewives of Potomac _ . I like the dinner party fights.”

“Great.” 

After the second part of the reunion, Athena served Buck a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes with chicken gravy and lots of pepper--his favorite--and eyed him until he progressed through half of it. A frantic Maddie came over after her shift and waffled between anger, concern and her special horrific brand of Maddie fear. Her gauge for worst-case scenarios was far darker than most people’s, which was why Buck hadn’t called her. After too many hugs, Buck sat at Athena’s kitchen table with his found family and finally began to tell the truth. 

*911*

“I can carry that,” Maddie said for the second time. 

Buck rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “It’s two trays of lasagna, Maddie. I think I can manage. I used to carry people out of buildings,” he griped. 

Maddie huffed, holding her own pink pastry box full of gourmet bakery cookies, and hoped she could snag a few before her shift. “I just want to help, that’s all.” 

“You coming as moral support is all that I need. That, and getting the door.” Buck balanced at the perpendicular trays of lasagna that he’d actually made himself, and stared at the 118 Firehouse, feeling that Pavolvian prickle of adrenaline. He stopped and paused, tipping his head back to bask in it, and the bright Los Angeles sun. The two weeks since his fall had been a novel kind of hell, but Buck had learned in therapy to enjoy the good moments, and even being in the vicinity of the firehouse was an awesome one. 

With a deep breath, he walked through the door Maddie held open and hoped the food would at least keep the squad from turning the hoses on him. Buck inhaled the smell of the firehouse, which was a comforting combination of motor oil, smoke, and whatever the last family meal had been. The din of the activity slowed, then halted when Buck traversed the narrow space between the red and chrome of the ladder trucks. 

Chimney hopped out of one. “Please don’t tell me you own these now,” he quipped, humor over steel. 

“Where the hell would I park it?” 

Chimney stared him down for a tense second before his lips turned into a teasing smile. “I could think of a few places.” He eyed the two aluminum pans Buck was holding. “I was wondering why Bobby wasn’t cooking today. I’ll grab the team.” He plucked them out of his hands, snagged a kiss from Maddie and hopped up the stairs. 

Buck’s pulse notched up a bit and dragged his anxiety with it. With his hands free, he retreated into the alley between the trucks and leaned against the replacement of the truck that had crushed him. 

Maddie went with him, mirroring his cross-armed position. 

“I’ll be right here. The entire time.” Maddie rested her head on his upper arm and waited to follow his lead. 

Three minutes of cleansing breaths later, Evan entered the kitchen to heat up the lasagnas. The lofted kitchen was quieter than it had ever been, with Bobby and Hen forcing stilted small talk. It was only when the salad was served, did Buck approach the table, swallowing down the pang of sorrow when he saw there wasn’t a seat for him. 

“It’s not much, but I hope you guys can accept this as a bit of a peace offering for all that I put you through,” Buck began. 

“If you made this, this is more like a weapon of mass destruction,” Hen said with a wink. 

Even if it was forced, Buck appreciated that everyone chuckled. “I did make it myself. Maddie’s been eating practice lasagnas for a week.” 

“You guys owe me.  _ Big _ ,” she piped up from the kitchen bar. 

“Some cheese and pasta don’t make up for suing us,” Chimney piped in. 

“That’s why I’m here--to tell you I dropped the lawsuit.” 

Hen dropped her fork. Eddie stopped mid-chew. A shocked silence stilled the table. And Buck soldiered on. “I was angry and hurt, and I didn’t handle it that great. Obviously. But I wasn’t okay then, and I’m kind of not now...so...this is just my way of beginning to make up for putting you guys in a crappy situation.” 

“We just want you to be okay and healthy, Buck. That’s all we’ve ever wanted,” Hen said. “Are you?”

“I will be…” Buck said with a nod. “Actually, I’ve been off the blood thinners for two weeks--” 

Hen’s head lifted, elated. “No lawsuit, no blood thinners. I would’ve expected you to be starting fires just do you could put them out.” 

Buck shook his head. “I’m not...I’m not ready. Jesus, this is harder than I thought it was going to be…” 

“We’re all family here, Buckaroo. You can tell us as much or as little as you want,” Bobby assured him.

“I know...I just...Firefighting is all that was important to me. It’s the only constant that I had. When it was taken from me...the way it was taken from me, I thought if I could get it back that I could get myself back. And the more things that happened, the more...away from myself I got. There’s other stuff I have to work through now,” Buck felt shame rising up like a toxic heat. He glanced back at his sister, and she offered silent encouragement. “I have...PTSD...from the tsunami and the ladder truck, and probably stuff before,” Buck rushed out a bit too loudly. “I’ve been getting help, but I think for now...it’s better that I figure out who I am without the job...and get ahead of this. And so I can forgive myself.” 

“Forgive yourself?” Chimney echoed, confused. “Buck, you’ve one of the most epic runs of crap luck I’ve ever seen. Besides being the same impulsive moron you’ve always been, you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

Eddie hadn’t said a word since Buck had entered the firehouse, but he felt his gaze on him now, scrutinizing and sad. When Buck had filed the lawsuit, he hadn’t thought about how Christopher would be negatively impacted. His lawyer had advised him not to speak to Eddie, but Buck had managed to sneak in a few calls with Christopher over Facetime. 

“I never blamed you,” Eddie announced. Everyone in the firehouse turned towards him. 

Buck crossed his arms over his chest and wished he hadn’t planned such a grand declaration. That he hadn’t been in that tsunami. That a bomber hadn’t blown up the truck. That Ally hadn’t broken up with him. But more than anything he wished he hadn’t taken Christopher to the pier. “Well I do, Eddie. I blame myself.  _ I hate myself _ . But I’m working on that, too.” Buck rushed to recover. “Look, I don’t want to make this a big thing. I made a plan, ya know: more therapy, a little traveling maybe, and when I come back to work...probably light duty for a while first.” 

“That sounds like a good plan.” Chimney answered with overwrought reassurance. 

“The lasagna will be ready in a few minutes. Eat up.” 

Buck had done what he came to do. He thought sharing his truth would unburden himself and he’d shed a bit of the weight that he’d been carrying, but somehow it had doubled. His squad had graciously let him slip away down to the locker room while they ate family dinner. He thought about leaving, but he’d promised himself the reward of hanging out in the firehouse, trying on how it felt. Some of his best memories on the job weren’t repelling down elevator shafts or rushing into burning buildings; it was trashtalking with Hen during videogames; teasing Chimney while they re-stocked the truck; working out with Eddie in the gym; taking cooking lessons from Bobby in the kitchen. It was this firehouse, and those people who made him feel apart of something life-changingly important. Saving lives was just icing on the really badass cake.

He sat on the bench in front of the lockers and closed his eyes, pretending that this was any other day, and he was just exhausted from a busy shift of calls, and not from cutting himself open twice a week in therapy or from water-logged nightmares about drowning children. 

A voice cut into his thoughts. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Eddie said, announcing his presence.

“I’d throw punches if you did.” Buck felt Eddie sit down beside him, and clap him on the knee.

“You should come over tonight. I know an eight-year-old who’d be over-the-moon to see you.” 

Buck missed Christopher immensely, but the thought of facing him made him inexplicably nauseous. He wasn’t sure his composure, built on faux smiles and white-knuckled determination, was child-proof yet. “Raincheck?” 

“You really do blame yourself?” Eddie replied, shocked. “ _ Evan _ …seriously?”

“You trusted me with the most precious thing in your life, Eddie. No one has ever done that before,” Buck admitted. “It’s usually ‘Buck, don’t screw that up.’ ‘Buck, you never think.’ ‘Buck, stop sleeping with my friends.’ But you never hesitated to share  _ your son _ with me. And I nearly lost him,” Buck tried not to remember the desolation in Eddie’s eyes when he’d appeared at the VA triage center without his son. “You blamed me in that moment. I saw it in your face. It’s all I see now.” Buck ground his hands together so hard that his knuckles cracked. “You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t.” 

Eddie scooted closer, so their shoulders were touching, lending support. “There were 137 things going through my mind in the  _ one minute _ I thought my son was missing. Only one of them was anger towards you, and none of it was rational. Then you  _ collapsed _ , Buck, because you had spent God-know-how-long not getting help for yourself, but searching for my son and rescuing dozens of people along the way. If things had turned out differently...I would have known that you would have actually died trying to find him. And that’s not nothing, Buck. That’s everything, okay?” 

Buck’s breath his in his chest, and he wiped his eyes. Therapy had left him an open wound, and he cried even easier than he had before. “I love that kid, Eddie. So much. And I hate that I made it harder for him.” 

Eddie abandoned all pretense, and hugged Buck, pulling him close, like he did Christopher. “You didn’t, buddy. I promise you didn’t. You’re dealing with a hell of a lot right now, but this shouldn’t be one of them. I know that’ll take time to sink in, so I’ll keep reminding your dumbass. Like when you, Christopher and I go to the movies on Friday, okay?” 

Buck laughed. “I don’t think I have a choice.” 

Eddie patted his cheek. “Good boy.” 

Maddie knocked on the door of the locker room before entering. “The food’s getting cold, Buck. The squad doesn’t want to eat without you. Come on.” 

Buck let Maddie and Eddie drag him to his feet, laughing lightly as they playfully shoved him up the stairs. There was chatter and joy as he sat down to the table in a chair that Lena had gotten for him. He didn’t feel the absolution he’d expected but did find something warm and bright lilt through him, and it resonated like hope.   
  


_ Fin _


End file.
